Pressing Flowers
by northernscarlet
Summary: Collection of drabbles and one-shots of Rory and Jess on what could've been, what would've been, and what should've been. Each is inspired by a song from the Civil Wars.


**_Title:_**_ Pressing Flowers_

**_Category: _**_Gilmore Girls_

**_Summary_**_: Collection of drabbles and one-shots of Rory and Jess on what could've been, what would've been, and what should've been. Each is inspired from a song from the Civil Wars. _

**_Pairing:_**_ Literati_

**_Author's Notes:_**_ I'm going to post them in chronicle order based on the Civil Wars' 'Barton Hollow' CD tracklisting. I may find inspiration a few songs down the road that I will not post till I have completed the next track on the listing, so this may take awhile, especially if and when I hit a writer's block. _

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I owned nothing._

**20 Years**

Dear Jess,

I don't know how to start off this letter, let alone if I'll send this or not.

I just...

God, how did life get this complicated?

Remember the times in which I was just working on my homework at the kitchen room table and you were just sitting there, reading? Those are some of my most treasured memories of you. We were just us. Rory and Jess. Nothing's complicated. Just us.

Now...

I stole a yacht.

You heard me right.

I stole a freaking yacht.

God, I can imagine you right now laughing at me, probably making a _Great Gatsby _reference or something.

The reason why I stole the yacht did not even qualify as a significantly good reason, let alone a great one.

I also decided to take some time off from Yale.

And I'm living with my grandparents.

You are probably either laughing your ass right off right now or you are disappointed in me. I'm hoping for the former.

I don't know how things gotten the way they are. It's a great time to start off my teenage rebellion, right? Salinger couldn't of scripted it better. I'm apparently a rebel without a cause. You can be my James Dean.

I guess...

I should've called. I should've tried to get in touch with you sooner. I shouldn't of tried to handle everything myself.

It's just...

I was pregnant.

Don't be shock. I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't pick up and come back here to your version of a hell hole. There's no baby. I miscarried. I didn't tell anyone. Not even mom.

In case you were wondering, it was yours. Jerk. (Though I never doubt you doubting me.)

When I found out I was pregnant, I was already three months along. I was about to start Yale and my mother was so proud of me.

Then my life started to look like a Judy Blume novel.

I made a pros and cons list. I weighted my options: keep the baby, adoption, and termination.

(You probably already know I wouldn't pick the last option, huh? I could barely kill a spider. I couldn't imagine myself killing my own child.)

I wanted to tell you. I wanted to pick up the phone and dial the number Luke gave me.

I couldn't.

What if you were like your father? What if you didn't want to deal with me anymore? What if you didn't care enough for me to come back?

I know. I know. You wouldn't do any of that. You would've come back and try to be there for me and the baby. I just couldn't helped it. I was scared. Frighten. Alone.

What if you didn't want the baby?

I wanted the child. I wanted it because it was a part of you. A part of you that didn't just leave me high and dry before graduation. Someone who will always be there for me, instead of acting out a Lifetime movie.

I so badly wanted the baby.

And it died.

My body rejected the baby like it was some form of virus. Something to rid itself of.

I was so alone.

No one knew of the baby, just my doctor. I didn't even call mom from the emergency room, because I could imagine the look in her eyes. Her disappointment.

Lane has no clue.

That night in the hospital, I sat there and cried. I cried that I finally lost you. I cried that I had no one. I also cried because I felt a bit relief that the baby was gone.

I couldn't forgive myself for that last bit. Still haven't.

I thought for sure you will be there for your mother's wedding. You were. You just didn't come and see me.

Jerk.

I was the one who shouldn't forgive you for leaving me and our relationship.

I guess I still have the mentality that you will always be there for me, even when you clearly aren't.

I still love you. Forget what I said before. I know for sure I love you.

Not sure if you love me in the same way.

Don't come and act all heroic and save me from the tragedy that is called my life. I do not need inspirations from romcoms to dictate your life. I already know that life do not work that way, no matter how one so wished it did.

For some reason, I just could not stop thinking about the baby today. I finally screwed up my life and all I could think about is the dead baby.

I wanted it to be here. I wanted the child to be here.

I thought that if I kept the baby, my life would be ruined. My life is already getting to the point of no return without the help of the baby.

And I wanted you to be here.

Why aren't you here?

I shouldn't be like this. I should not let a guy save me, a damsel in distress. How cliché is that? Feminists everywhere are greatly disappointed in me, I'm sure.

I don't even know what I'm doing.

You probably heard from Luke, but mom and I are going through a rough patch. I should've seen this coming. I didn't even tell her I was pregnant.

I don't know what I should do.

Logan is no help and he's my boyfriend.

God.

You don't know what happened between me and Dean, let alone how I got together with Logan.

I slept with Dean. I broke up his marriage. I think that constitute me as a home-wrecker.

Wait. It gets better.

The reason why Logan and I started going out is because I offered him my body. Well, technically, it was along the terms of no-strings-attached. It didn't make myself feel any better.

My life has officially become a Lifetime movie.

I can't believe I became one of those girls. Those girls that are hung up on a guy. My life does not revolve around you, just for your information.

I just haven't been making the right choices so far. I guess I can kind of blame you for this. You did knocked me up.

That could be your fault. My fault would be everything else. Just remember, when someone down the road comes to me for my life story, I'm blaming everything on you.

Not really.

Everything that had happened thus far has been mostly my fault. The yacht. Fighting with my mom. Leaving Yale.

I wonder what would of happened if you stayed. Would've we have made it? Would've we still have broken up? What's done is done. We all can't have access to a time machine and change our outcome, no matter how much we wished for it.

This letter must be a downer for you. Sorry, I didn't mean to write about my regrets in life. I'm not even sure I'm going to send this to you or not. Your life might be perfect right now and this letter will ruin that. Is there anyone in your life, right now? What are you doing? Are you happy?

Please, be happy. Be better than me. Be living your life as you wanted to. Be you.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how to repair my relationship with my mom. I need someone to talk to. I know that it can't be you, but a girl can wish, right?

My mom is already so disappointed in me. How can I...

I'm sorry. I shouldn't place any burden on you. You don't have the responsibility to come and fix up my life. That's my job.

I'm rambling too much.

I should just end it here, or else I'm just going to repeat myself.

Whatever you are doing, know that I'm proud of you. Always.

Rory


End file.
